The Captain's Departure
by SwooshyCueb
Summary: The unfinished story of Captain Gavorn's departure from Omega.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: I wrote this about two years ago, and as of right now I have no plans on completing it. Either way, here's the first chapter of _The Captain's Departure._

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><p>It was another typical day monitoring the activities of the vorcha. Another day of breathing Omega's stale air. Another day of trying to block out the über-repetitive music coming from Afterlife. Another day of ignoring the drunk patrons as they got themselves killed.<p>

Captain Preitor Gavorn needed to get off this asteroid, or at least do something meaningful. He had no reason for keeping this job, aside from maintaining a friendship with Aria. To be her enemy was . . . unhealthy. He was secretly rich. The only other person to know of the turian's wealth had left Omega, possibly forever, and he probably forgot his name anyway.

The job was dull, now more than ever: Some human and his comrades took a chunk out of the vorcha population, so they made themselves scarce. The days since had been very uneventful. No vorcha related deaths to investigate. No barely sentient creatures trying to get in Afterlife. The only thing that kept the Captain from going insane was the way in which the elcor bouncer turned away the patrons he deemed not welcome, and the way they fruitlessly tried to get in. Today, things seemed different. There were no patrons trying to circumvent the elcor today. He just stood there, waiting.

Preitor spotted a vorcha in the corner of his eye. He turned to watch it. It was sitting on the ground, leaning on an empty crate. There was something odd about this vorcha, but the turian couldn't quite figure out what it was. He watched it for a while. It seemed to be extremely coordinated for a vorcha.

After a few minutes, Preitor decided this vorcha was not going to be a problem for anyone. "Still need to keep an eye on it, though," he muttered to himself. Then he noticed something. The vorcha had something. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was emitting an orange glow.

The vorcha looked up, right at Preitor, and the glow vanished. It picked something up off the ground and scrambled into the empty crate.

"Well, he's not bothering anybody in there."

"Genuine inquiry: Gavorn, did you see that vorcha? Confusion with astonishment: It seemed to have a datapad." The elcor had been watching as well.

"Why would a vorcha need a datapad? Can they even read?"

"Vaguely regretful: I do not know"

Preitor's curiosity had been piqued, and he was going to find out what that vorcha was up to. "I'm going to go check it out." He walked over to the crate and peered in. In the crate was the vorcha, and he did indeed have a datapad. The vorcha was typing away on an omni-tool. This must have been the source of the orange glow. This vorcha was definitely not like the others.

The vorcha peered up at him. "What do you want, turian?" he hissed.

"Answers. Why do you have an omni-tool and a datapad? Are you even capable of using these?" the turian demanded.

The vorcha hissed at him, displeased with his attitude. "I am not like the barbarians!"

"Explain." This vorcha was able to form proper sentences. Unusual.

"I am smarter than them. They are the lesser type." That made sense. "You will have to excuse me, turian. I am not prepared to answer your questions today. I will be here tomorrow if you are still interested." The vorcha's voice was very grating, but he seemed more civilized as well.

"Very well. I will be back tomorrow. Don't cause any trouble."

The vorcha hissed as Preitor walked away.

"Ginuine inqui-"

"He won't be causing any problems, but I'm gonna check up on him tomorrow just in case."

He didn't even get a chance: Aria laid him off the next day . . . but dammit, he was curious! He managed to track down the vorcha, named Rekkin, and find out more.

Rekkin explained that somehow, a small group of vorcha "woke up and became aware." This frightened the other vorcha who saw this as a threat and a challenge. As a result, they hunted the 'aware' vorcha and forced them into hiding.

Vorcha? Plan? Actually not so far-fetched!


	2. Revival?

Sorry, this ain't another chapter. At least not yet. I'm considering picking this back up again to practice my writing skills, get some creative juices flowing, and possibly enjoy Mass Effect once again. If I do, I _may_ switch perspective to first person (Gavorn's POV). So, just a heads up, there may be more of this in the future. Just don't expect any miracles. I'm a musician, not a writer.

-SwooshyCueb


	3. Chapter 2 Part 1

A/N: This is taking a while to write because I have tons of other projects and obligations going on at the moment, so instead of making you guys wait on a full chapter, I'm going to post each chapter in parts, as I finish them.

Also, I'm going to post another A/N chapter, this one explaining a few differences between my universe and the canon universe. It will all likely be explained as the story goes on, but I'd like to go ahead and make it clear.

So here's Chapter 2, Part 1. Critique is very welcome.

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><p>Preitor sighed. Even though Rekkin could actually hold an intelligent conversation, his voice was still about as bearable to listen to as the vocal track of a hardcore screamo song without the song to back it up. They were sitting behind the counter of what used to be Kenn's Salvage, a small store run by a quarian who was on his pilgrimage. "Why haven't I seen any vorcha like you before? Before you, every Vorcha I've run into has barely been capable of speech," Preitor inquired.<p>

"We do not particularly enjoy the company of our less intelligent siblings-"

"So you stay away from areas where vorcha are problematic. I gotcha," Preitor completed Rekkin's sentence for him. The less he had to hear of his voice, the better. If it weren't for the Captain's raging curiosity, he wouldn't even be here.

"Yes," came the hissed reply. Rekkin then began coughing quite violently. "I apologize, turian. We still have to struggle to speak."

"Of course you do. Your vocal cords, or whatever they are for your species, aren't really evolved for speech." Everyone knew that.

"It hurts sometimes."

Preitor's manibles twitched. "I'm sure it does." Preitor's voice contained a hint of sympathy, and the vorcha may have caught on to this because they shared a breif moment of sustained eye contact in silence.  
>"You can type, can't you? I need to get out of here, but we can keep in touch through our omni-tools."<p>

Rekkin nodded in reply.

"It was good meeting you, Rekkin. I'll shoot you a message later."

"Farewell, Captain Gavorn," rasped Rekkin as Gavorn began to leave.

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><p>"It's going to take me a while to get used to listening to that voice," Preitor thought to himself. He looked at his omni-tool as he walked down the corridor towards his apartment. No messages. His thoughts turned to his job. "What am I going to do with myself now that I'm unemployed?" While he did have the money to support himself for sevral lifetimes and then some, calling attention to one's wealth was a good way to get killed on Omega.<p>

He approached his apartment door. Room 243. The door slid open, detecting his presence, and he stepped inside without looking up.  
>A female voice greeted him, "Captain Gavorn, I presume?"<p>

Pretor instictively drew his pistol, pointed it at the source of the voice, and took a defensive stance. She was human, unarmed. She had dark, shoulder-length hair and olive colored skin. She was dressed very professionally. "That's my couch you're sitting on, there."

"Do you want me to get up?" she asked, quite calmly for someone at gunpoint.

Preitor ignored the question. "How did you get in here?"

"I used the door."

Preitor's manibles twitched. He didn't like that answer. "What are you doing here?"

"Please, put down the weapon and we can talk. You might like what I have to say." She held up her hands in a guesture of peace.

"You couldn't just send me a message or something? You had to break into my apartment? You could have easily approached me at my job. I'm not hard to find." Preitor's patience was running thin.

"You don't have a job any more. Remember?"

Preitor's mandibles twitched again. "How the **fuck** did you know that?"

"My employer is _very_ well connected."

The Captain growled, "And who would that be?"

"Captain, please. Put down the gun so we can talk."

A few seconds of slinece passed before Preitor reluctantly holstered his pistol.

"Good, now, take a seat." She guestured at one of his chairs.

Preitor felt weird being offered a seat in his own home. He sat down. "What is it that you want?"

"We have been watching you for a while now, Captain," she began.

"Is that so?"

The woman ignored the question. "We know that you were recently laid off from your job managing the vorcha."

Preitor's mandibles twitched yet again.

"We also know that you are quite wealthy, and it's not because of said job."

"Lady, I don't know who you are or who you work for, but you seem to know everything about me. You'd better have something really good to say in the next five minutes or I'm going to put a bullet in your head."

"You don't like it here on Omega, do you?"

"No, I don't, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"Captain Gavorn, my employer wants to hire you."


	4. A brief note on canon

The entirety of this chapter is an Authors Note.

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><p>I'll try not to make too many of these, I promise.<p>

As I said in Ch2Pt1, I'm going to detail what exactly the differences are between my Mass Effect universe and the canon Mass Effect universe. Some of this will have no relevance as far as the story is concerned I'm going to try to be as spoiler-free as possible.

*The Shadow Broker is exactly as Barla Von theorizes in the first game. Quote from the Mass Effect Wiki: "Barla Von refers to the Broker as 'he' for convenience's sake, but tells Commander Shepard that he believes the Shadow Broker is a group of individuals: it does not seem possible for a single individual to monitor all of the available information and have such a wide sphere of influence." Yes, I do have a way to deal with Liara. No, you won't like it. Or you might, who knows  
>*Miranda Lawson died in the attack on the Collector base.<br>*Shepard chose Morinth over Samara  
>*The events of Arrival and Lair of the Shadow Broker never took place.<br>*The council was saved, Captain Anderson was chosen as the new councilor, and Shepard was re-instated as a Spectre.  
>*Thermal clips were never a thing.<p>

I'll try to keep this list updated as the story goes on.


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